


Lavellan Misadventures: Haven

by nicoleiacross



Series: Daily Misadventures in Running an Inquisition [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4564713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleiacross/pseuds/nicoleiacross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The daily struggles of dealing with the Inquisition when you really just want to not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavellan Misadventures: Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent fic about my Dalish misfits uvu (Also on my sideblog on tumblr)

Haven is—by all standards—absolutely freezing.

Aniello lets out a quiet swear and tries to burrow his way further into the scarf he’d procured from Seggrit (for an absolutely absurd price, at that); but, the only thing his attempt garners is his nose becoming more agitated by the cloth. Truthfully, he’d made a number of suggestions; there’s three mages on the front lines and even if the other two _don’t_ , Aniello’s studied the basics of pyromancy. Enough to keep _better_ fires going around the camp.

Cullen and Cassandra had not been partial to the idea in the least. Vivienne had commended him, briefly, before agreeing that it would not be the wisest course of action. No matter how helpful, magic was a tender subject so soon after the Conclave.

The longer he sulks—not because of the denial, because he quite understands the caution; but, because it’s so blasted _cold_ —the more he misses the Free Marches.

Sure, some places were just as cold; but, his clan generally stayed inland, close to Wildervale and traveling as far as Wycome. Once, they’d frequented Kirkwall… after Marethari’s fate, never mind the rebellion, most clans steered clear. Even before things went to Hell, there’d been too many reports of children going missing. Most were alienage born; but, a handful of Dalish had gone missing, too…

As soon as he thinks of the alienage, he feels even more miserable.

Ardelis had argued, long and harsh, about sending more than Aniello—specifically, for Hinaas and herself to at least act as an entourage. Even if Aniello had agreed, once the Keeper made up her mind, that was that.

He hadn’t been pleased at first, but… well. After the explosion, he’d never been so thankful that they weren’t there.

Now, he just wants to send his friends word that he’s alive. That he’s… mostly all right. Leliana’s couriers should be back any day, but… he wants to send a letter specifically to them. Not the clan, not the Keeper, not—… just them.

He thinks Varric may say something when he walks by—he’s circled the insides of Haven probably ten times now in his vain attempts to keep warm—but he doesn’t hear it. He does, however, hear a lot of noise coming from the gate behind them. He kind of feels Varric tap against his leg when the dwarf walks by; there’s caution in the murmur. He doesn’t hear words; just a slur of worried nonsense. He doesn’t follow—doesn’t want to, doesn’t really care one way or another. At that very moment, he just wants to be alone—

His thoughts are disrupted by a shattering crash and a symphony of shrieks and swears. It’s enough to startle him and he whirls around (mostly to figure out what the _Hell_ Bull is laughing at, because everyone else is starting to panic).

The sight is enough to make him freeze. His breath catches in his throat and he’s becoming increasingly aware of how painful the thudding in his chest is.

Leliana’s couriers look terrified—some are edging into the crowd (perhaps trying to keep the growing crowd back?), while others are teetering between doing the same and trying to approach their… guests.

At the front is an Elven woman with bright red hair—a few shades lighter than Aniello’s—and a large maul planted in the ground next to her, surrounded by a small crater. She’s standing on one side of it, one hand gripping the handle still, while her free hand rests on her hip. Dark green eyes narrow, dangerously, and painted lips curl into an almost cruel smile when people back even further away. Just behind her is another elf: they’re much paler, with dark hair that hangs in a braided curtain around their face; sharp gold eyes observe the scene while the body stays hunched over, curled to hide that their hands are resting near daggers.

“So. Let’s try this again, shall we? My friend and I are looking for someone. And _one of you_ is going to—”

“ _What_ is going on in here?”

Cassandra sounds furious; somewhere behind him, Aniello can hear Leliana ask the same question. She looks just as furious—which is terrifying enough by itself—when she comes down from her operations tent. Cullen is close behind Cassandra—sword already drawn—and Josephine is coming out of the chantry with Vivienne. Solas gives him a questioning look before he leans around the gate to peer down the stairs; Sera had been there seconds earlier, but had left just as quickly, mumbling about ‘ _too many damn elves, Andraste’s tits_ ’. Aniello feels a well of panic when the elven woman snarls and jumps down from her perch, already swinging the maul up to rest on her shoulders in a position that’s ready to strike; her companion crouches lower to the ground and he can already see the tiny smoke bombs waiting to be thrown.

He swears and he pushes his way through the crowd as quickly as possible.

“Dela, _no_!”

Silence washes over the crowd immediately and—in any other situation—Aniello would be uncomfortably aware of how everyone’s suddenly looking at him. The way the crowd parts so they can actually turn to stare. The woman is staring, too, as is the companion in her shadow. The silence is painful; but, a moment later, a wide grin spreads across the woman’s face and she releases her maul in favour of rushing over to pick him up in a near-spine shattering hug, “Ani! Oh, thank Andraste, you’re _okay_!”

Aniello chokes and struggles, desperately albeit in vain, to get free, “Dela— _Creators, Ardelis, put me down_!”

She drops him instantly and he coughs as he tries to regain his breath. Ardelis just laughs at him and gives him a solid thump on the back that nearly sends him face first into the snow, “Well, then. Those idiots weren’t lying. Good thing for them, aye, Hinaas?”

“They didn’t exactly _have_ a reason to lie, Dela….” Hinaas peeks around Ardelis’ shoulder, voice as quiet as Aniello remembers, and fixes him with a blank stare, “Are you all right, Ani? That looked… painful.”

“M’fine… er… we should. Probably. Move inside.” Aniello coughs and gestures over his shoulder, suddenly extremely aware of all the eyes still on them. Specifically, he’s aware of the fact Cullen and Cassandra still have their swords drawn; that Leliana is glowering at Ardelis (and the woman is returning the glare with a challenging smirk); and, the last time he looked over his shoulder, Josephine looked absolutely mortified. He has a _lot_ of explaining to do. Preferably _before_ a fight breaks out, because Ardelis _still_ looks more than ready for one.

**Author's Note:**

> I live in a happily delusional world where all of the possible Inquisitors are still alive (like how in Origins you can find mentions of the other possible Wardens as you progress through the story). Aniello is my "main" Inquisitor (i.e., the one I did literally every mission and collection and /everything/ with) and the others all just. End up. In the Inquisition on their own, really. Ardelis and Hinaas join him against their Keeper's wishes, but it's probably better that way, honestly.
> 
> Ani is a mage, Ardelis is a two-handed warrior, and Hinaas is a dual-wield and I love all three of them very dearly ♥
> 
> ... Seriously, /is/ it acceptable to post fic about your own Inquisitors, I feel weird but I kind of really liked writing this and I want to write more.  
> edit. fixed a few typos on location (forgot that Ostwick is kind of a coastal city.) minor headcanon in regards to the travel of Clan Lavellan: Circular route as such: Wycome -> Ansburg -> Green Dales -> Wildervale -> Kirkwall (only for emergency rations after the Blight) -> Ostwick -> Markham -> Hercinia -> Wycome.


End file.
